Birthrights
by the limit from 0 to 1
Summary: For seventeen years, Tamriel has had no emperor, but out of nowhere a mysterious Imperial claims the throne. Just as suddenly, beggars and citizens of the Waterfront begin to disappear. Forgotten heirs must take their birthrights to usurp the new emperor.
1. It's Always Rats

_Chapter 1: It's Always Rats_

* * *

"Ow! That stings!"

The boy's cries filled the small farmhouse as he tried to pull his wound away from the burning sting of the washcloth. However, the boy's mother paid no attention to his protests and continued to clean his cut and the other injuries that covered his body. He was held in place, seated on a small wooden stool, by his mother's firm grip. To his side was a wooden table with clean bandages and potions made with the crushed aloe vera leaves in a worn mortar. His mother wrapped his wound in the bandages and quickly moved to a large gash on the boy's forearm.

"Mother, please!"

It was easy to tell from the woman's furrowed brow and the lack of concern for her son's shouts that she was quite upset with the lad. After squirming for several minutes and having his mother hold his arm firmly in place, the boy final noticed that his protests were being ignored. He held his tongue and swallowed his complaints as his mother continued to tend to his wounds.

As she leaned forward to examine the deep gash on his arm closer, the woman's brown locks fell forward. After sweeping them behind her ear, the woman gathered a bit of magicka in her hand and cast a healing spell on her son. For a few more minutes she continued the process of disinfecting each of the boy's injuries then wrapping them in bandages and closing the more serious ones with more healing spells.

"Done," the Breton woman stated as she finished with the last healing spell.

She quickly stood up and wiped her hands on her apron and began to gather up her healing supplies. Alchemy equipment and aloe vera samples were returned to a small cupboard within the small farmhouse. While his mother was busy tidying the house, the boy examined his arm. Before it was a rancid shade of purple and red, and now there was barely a scar to remind him of the battle.

"Thank you, Mother," said the boy.

Just as the words slipped from his mouth, the boy yelped in surprise as he received a sharp slap on the back of his head. Although the blow did not hurt in comparison to all the cuts and scratched from the rats that he had fought, it was very shocking that his mother would hit him.

"What was that for?" he exclaimed.

"That, Marcus," replied his mother very sternly with her arms on her hips," was for leaving a trail of food for rats to follow back to the farm from your little 'adventures' in the Great Forest!"

"I killed them all though!" Marcus replied as he rubbed the pain at the back of his head.

"Not before they ate half of my herbs!" his mother rebuked. "Now half our harvest is gone and I can no longer sell enough potions in Chorrol to Seed-Neeus to make it through the winter. Unless you want to skip half your meals searching the forest for plants this winter… Ugh! I can't believe you were so foolish Marcus!"

After seeing his mother's distraught face, the facts sunk in for Marcus. It was already Last Seed – far too late in the year to plant any more potatoes and flax for his mother shield potions or aloe vera to crush in to a powder for healing potions. Furthermore, they had only one hundred Septims hidden away. Marcus could only stare at his iron boots, now slightly damaged from his encounter with the rats, as he mother rubbed her temple to soothe herself.

Seeing her son's expression, the Breton woman sighed and rubbed her son's cheek with her hand as she did during his childhood to comfort him. When Marcus stared up at her with his blue eyes, he immediately knew that she was more concerned with his welfare than she was angry with his "adventures."

"Now what do we do?" Marcus meekly asked. "I can start searching the forest for some plants tomorrow."

"No," his mother said. "Now… Now you must go to Chorrol."

"What? Chorrol?"

"I know you've been sneaking out instead of doing your chores to explore the Great Forest. Although you know I disapprove, you are sixteen and your 'adventures' have improved your swordplay and destruction magic. Rats and bandits shouldn't be much of a problem if you fight carefully. While you're in town, I'll be trying to salvage as much as I can from my garden."

Marcus stayed seated on the stool and watched his mother make her way to the chest at the foot of her bed. Rummaging through the extra pairs of clothes, Marcus was shocked to see his mother pull out a blood-red longsword like he had never laid eyes on before. It was of better quality than his iron longsword, which was given to him years ago after much pleading and begging. The sword did not have a straight edge like most, and the pommel was a wavy spike. _Daedric_, Marcus immediately knew. The sword pulsed with a red glow that signaled some sort of enchantment.

Curious, Marcus sat upright on the stool to see what else his mother had hidden within the chest. Before she closed the lid, Marcus caught a glimpse of an equally strange sword, with a curved blade in a golden sheath. Marcus knew his mother was not born a farmer, quite evident by her proficiency in alchemy and destruction magic and scars on her arms that came from blades, but the sight of the daedric sword and the unknown blade made Marcus truly wonder what life was like for his mother during her younger years.

"This sword," his mother stated, "is heavily enchanted. It should fetch at least eight hundred Septims, but I believe that you'll get more than that if you went to the Imperial City, but that's too far and the city is far too large. Seed-Neeus will let you haggle, but Rasheda might have more gold available. Compare their prices before selling to either one."

"Where did you get the sword?" Marcus asked, staring wide-eyed at the longsword.

"Never you mind," she chastised as she began wrapping the sword in cloth. "It is not important. What is important is that you travel to Chorrol and sell this."

"Mother, why do you never speak about your past?" the boy timidly asked. "Baurus always jokes that he still can't imagine you settling down on a farm, which means you were something else, especially considering that sword."

Marcus's mother knotted the ends of the cloth tightly at her son's words. She placed the sword on her bed and faced her son.

"Hush. Baurus is nothing more than an old friend whose lips blabber with outrageous stories when he is much too full of ale. Have I not told you before to pay no heed to his stories? Now ready yourself for the trip. You'll leave at first light, and I'll give you five Septims to stay at the Grey Mare. You'll return home at first light. Be sure to use the roads. No detours or side-trips Marcus. It is absolutely forbidden for you to use the Daedric sword. We need it in the best condition to get the best price."

Marcus hopped off the stool and pouted, blowing air through his nostrils. His mother always avoided questions of her past, especially the few years prior to his birth. She even kept Baurus's flappy lips sealed if she was around. Marcus could only assume that the reasons for her refusal were because all questions of her past were bound to lead to his father.

His father was a mysterious figure, as little was spoken about him. Marcus only knew bits and pieces of information when Baurus visited and his mother was too engrossed in her work of brewing potions. His father died when Cyrodill was being invaded by daedra years ago. The subject was so sensitive that even a drunk Baurus and a few charm scrolls wouldn't yield complete answers. It didn't help that his mother had moved to the Great Forest after the Oblivion gates had been sealed, so no one in Chorrol knew anything about his father.

The boy gathered extra undergarments and a tunic into a small pack and threw it to the base of his bed beside his iron longsword and light iron shield. Marcus scowled as he noticed the nicks and dents in his shield from the rats. An iron shield would have taken more damage without showing it, but it was more expensive and far too heavy for Marcus. Maybe in a few years he would be able to handle its weight.

He would need to repair his sword before venturing through the Great Forest to Chorrol. Bandits and highwaymen were always a problem on the road to Chorrol, especially around Fort Ash. Hopefully the Nine would spare him from encountering them or wolves for that matter. However, once he reached Odill Farm, he would be safe.

"Marcus," his mother called. "Come here."

Obediently, Marcus walked over to his mother, who promptly placed a jeweled amulet around his neck. Marcus wrapped his fingers around the amulet, feeling the magicka embedded within it. A magic sword, and now an enchanted amulet. Marcus looked at his mother with curious eyes. What else had she been hiding from him all these years.

"It's enchanted with a shield spell," his mother explained. "Since you don't have a full set of armor, this will help to compensate without adding much weight. The daedric sword is quite heavy by itself."

"Mother, I don't want to leave you here alone."

"Don't worry. Baurus will be coming later in the day tomorrow. Besides, who taught you how to wield a sword and cast a fireball?"

Even though his mother tried to soothe his worries, Marcus knew that she wasn't as young as she acted and was out of practice of swordplay. They had stopped sparring years ago. It was a bit of a comforting thought that she would not be alone, but Baurus was only a few years younger than his mother.

While stuck in his thoughts, his mother had made her way to the window, gazing at the sky outside.

"The sun had set quite a while ago," she mumbled. "I had not realized that it was so late."

"Mother…"

With a large sigh, she turned to her son. "You should rest. You leave at first light."

Marcus stared into his mother's eyes, and she softly stroked his brown hair. She tilted her head to point to his bed, telling him to sleep.

"You've grown so much," she said. "You are already growing taller than me. You're growing to look so much like him."

After speaking those words, she walked over to her alchemy cupboard to make a note of her ingredients. Marcus was about to ask who his mother was referring to, but he realized who it was. Not wanting to cause his mother to recall painful memories, he held back his tongue. Marcus settled into his bed after kicking off his boots, but sleep couldn't come to him. He lay under the covers for at least an hour, feigning sleep as not to worry his mother. With his eyes shut, he heard his mother step over to check on him. Her hand stroking his hair brought sleep closer to him. Before he drifted off, Marcus imagined what his father looked like if they had similar faces.

* * *

Rose looked down on her sleeping son. Maybe if she hadn't donated more than half the gold that she had gained in her younger years to the rebuilding of Cyrodill, she might not have had to sell her Longsword of the Inferno that she claimed in the Deadlands. It was too late to change the past. Hopefully she would not have to resort to sell her Akaviri Katana as well.

It pained her to withhold information about her beloved from her son, but she had promised herself to reveal everything only when he had turned eighteen. Hopefully then, Marcus would be mature enough to decide for himself what to do with his birthright.

"Oh Martin," she said. "He's growing to look more and more like you. I just wish that you were here to see it for yourself."


	2. It's Never By Choice

_Chapter 2: It's Never by Choice_

* * *

Marcus heaved a sigh of relief as the walls of Chorrol came into view. As he strolled by Weynon Priory the boy rubbed the large bruise on his arm, which was now turning into an ugly shade of indigo outlined by black. The trip up the Black Road through the Great Forest to Chorrol had been uneventful, save for a lone highwayman hiding in the shrubbery along Fort Ash. He was saved the trouble of defending himself against wolves that roamed the forest, but Marcus would have rather taken a pack of wolves over a Skooma-high Khajiit wielding a battleaxe. At least wolves knew to back off if one of them sustained an injury; the Khajiit kept going until Marcus was forced to pierce through the highwayman's torso. His mother's amulet had saved him from dealing with a broken limb, but he was still in pain and a night at an inn would do him some good.

With his body bruised from the fight and his shield in need of a bit of repair from taking swings from the iron battleaxe, Marcus was greatly relieved to rid himself of the extra weight of the daedric longsword and pass out on a bed at the Grey Mare.

The town guards nodded at the boy as he passed through the gates. Marcus examined the walls with some scrutiny. Though it had almost been two decades, he could still see lingering scars on the stone from the Oblivion attacks years ago. Though Chorrol was spared from the devastation that befell Kvatch, that did not mean that the city escaped the war completely unscathed. Thankfully, as the stories go, Emperor Martin forever sealed the realm of Oblivion off from the mortal plane, so a war of such magnitude would not be repeated.

It was well into the afternoon when Marcus arrived through the lower gate, and the citizens of Chorrol were out and about with the majority congregating by the Great Oak. As much as Marcus wanted to head over to the oak tree and listen to the news about the empire, he adjusted the strap that held the longsword against his back and headed to Fire and Steel to see what price the sword could fetch. Hopefully it would be enough to last through the winter.

Before Marcus could take two steps up the hill, he heard a familiar voice call out to him. He turned to his left and spied a female Argonian waving to him from the entrance of Northern Goods and Trade. He returned the wave with a smile and altered his course to the other store.

"Dar-Ma!" Marcus exclaimed. "It's so good to se-"

The boy was abruptly cut off by a crushing hug from the Argonian. On looking guards and citizens chuckled under the breaths. Though they were accustomed to it, Dar-Ma's sometime excessive friendliness was still a sight to behold.

"Oh Marcus! I was wondering when you would come! Mother and I were thinking that you would not come to trade this month after her comment about having too many potions in stock."

"Nice to see you, too," Marcus managed to choke out from the tight hug. "Though it would also be nice to breath, Dar-Ma."

The Argonian squeaked and released the boy, apologizing for the embrace. The pair smiled at one another and exchanged further pleasantries before the Argonian invited Marcus into the shop. Since Northern Goods and Trade was on his mother's list of potential buyers, Marcus decided to leave Rasheda's store for later.

Once they were through the door to the store, Dar-Ma immediately ascended the staircase and shouted for her mother. Marcus trailed behind slowly, but once he reached to top, he spied Seed-Neeus sitting at a table, scratching some notes onto a piece of parchment with a worn quill.

"Mother!" she called. "You won't believe who's here!"

"The countess? I doubt we'd have anyone that important in our little store."

"Even better."

"Better than the countess? Daughter I think you-"

Seed-Neeus turned around to berate her offspring, but was happily surprised to see Marcus standing next to her daughter. She smiled warmly at the lad and gestured for him to come closer. Marcus took a seat next to the older Argonian and slid his shield and two swords off his body, propping them up against the wall. He rolled his shoulders, thankful to finally get the weight off them and rest a bit.

"Where is your mother, Marcus?" asked Seed-Neeus. "Is she over at the Oak and Crosier arranging for a room? I really wish for once she would say hello before doing business in town."

Seed-Neeus huffed and turned her head, obviously remembering all the times throughout the years that Rose had made her trips to Chorrol. Marcus could not help but laugh a bit. It was true that his mother always had to come to town for business and never just to visit her friends, though she always did see Seed-Neeus before she made her way back home.

"Dar-Ma," Seed-Neeus called. "Be a dear and fetch Marcus some of that mutton that we cooked earlier."

Shocked by the gesture of hospitality, Marcus waved his hands, trying to signal no. "It's okay, I'm fine. There's really no need to trouble yourself over me. I only came to trade with you or Rasheda."

Seed-Neeus, however, was not moved and shooed her daughter to retrieve the mutton despite Marcus's refusal for food.

"Nonsense," she chided. "You are a guest and you must be tired from your trip up to Chorrol. You need to be fed, especially when you're growing to adulthood. Do not think that I have not noticed that you've grown taller since the last time you were here with your mother. Where is she anyway?"

"She's not here, Seed-Neeus. She's still at home. I came to Chorrol by myself."

"Truly? Well now that I think about it, you are off schedule. It's a bit early for you to come to trade in town. Is there a reason for this visit? I doubt that your mother would allow you to visit town by yourself on a social whim, and I recall you mentioned something about trade."

Marcus sighed and scratched his head. He began to tell Seed-Neeus about rat had ravaged his mother's garden so that they were unable to harvest anything for alchemy and food. During his tale, Dar-Ma returned with a plate of mutton and set it down on the table before Marcus. Unable to hide the sounds of his growing stomach, Marcus proceeded to take small bites of the meat as he continued to explain his reason for traveling to Chrorrol.

* * *

"I know it's asking a lot," Marcus mumbled after finishing explaining the incident with the rats in his mother's garden, "but if you are willing to buy this sword…"

The boy's voice trailed off as he lowered his head to gaze at his hands. Eight hundred Septims was a hefty price to trade for a sword. The market was slow for expensive weaponry and Seed-Neeus hardly stocked herself with goods of the same sort. Even if she did purchase the longsword, it would be hard to resell it to make a profit. Rasheda would be the better option, but like Seed-Neeus, Marcus doubted that there would be anyone willing to purchase an enchanted daedric longsword any time soon.

As Marcus sat quietly contemplating, Dar-Ma and her mother exchanged silent looks. With a slight nod, Dar-Ma exited the room, but came back quickly with a large sack. Marcus heard the distinctive jingle of coin and looked up to see the young Argonian place the sack in front of him.

"What is this?" he wondered. "Coin? You have even yet to see the sword! And I haven't given you any price!"

"There is no need for any of those things," said Dar-Ma, and her mother nodded in agreement. "We will take the sword, just because your mother would complain about this being charity, but think of this as a debt that is long overdue."

Still pondering the words of the Argonian, Marcus pulled the drawstring of the sack and peered inside. Hundreds of gold coins sparkled before him. There had to be more than a thousand Septims in the pile. Marcus held his mouth agape, stunned and at a loss for words.

"Your mother had been coming to Chorrol since before you were born," Seed-Neeus said as she motioned her daughter to sit and assist with her story. "I remember when she first came, she was asking for Jauffrey, having completely passed Weynon Priory as she traveled here from the Imperial City."

"She returned her on occasion," continued Dar-Ma. Marcus closed the bag of coin and adjusted himself to better listen to the tale. "And whenever she did, we would talk. I was making a delivery to the town of Hackdirt, and the townsfolk were less than hospitable. Your mother was the one who saved me, but I never had the chance to repay her. I had heard that she moved to a place north of Bruma. Until the chaos of the Oblivion crisis was settled, she didn't return to Chorrol.

"I've never had the chance to repay her, and she always refused coin of any sort. It's only fitting that we help you in this hard time."

It took a while for the story to settle in Marcus's mind. He could hardly imagine his mother combating angry villagers to save a younger Dar-Ma. He wondered if she had used a sword, perhaps that strange curved blade that she kept hidden at home, or if she used spells, maybe spells that she kept hidden from her son.

"How will you sell the sword?" asked Marcus. "I know you've probably had this money hidden away, but I doubt the merchant in you would allow you to go without a profit."

"Do not worry," said Seed-Neeus. She smiled gently and laughed a bit. Marcus was so much like his mother, always concerned about the welfare of others. "Do you recall my son-in-law? He makes trips to the Imperial City often. We will find a buyer for the sword that way. Trade is big there, so we're sure to get a profit off of it. The extra gold we gave you is a gift from friends. Once he comes back from the city, we'll send him off again."

"Mother!" shouted Dar-Ma. "At least let him rest a bit. Besides, I always love to hear the gossip he brings from the capital."

She turned to face Marcus with a wide grin. "Did you hear the latest news? The heir has been found. The Septim bloodline hasn't been demolished after all."

"Heir?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean? A new emperor?"

"Daughter, you musn't spread silly rumors."

"Oh, Mother, there's no harm in a little talk."

Seed-Neeus shook her head, slightly embarrassed by her daughter's nature to spread the rumors that were told to her by her traveling husband. However, it was the most talked about story in Cyrodill. If Marcus was to hear it, at least it was from Dar-ma.

"The Elder Scrolls changed recently, as they always do. They read that Emperor Martin's heir would take the throne and would be noticeable because of a mark from Akotosh. Well, they found an Imperial with a birthmark in the shape of a dragon. He looks like a Septim, and most impressively, he was able to light the Dragonfires. You see, Emperor Martin was not born in the palace. He could have easily sire a child before he was proclaimed heir after the assassination of his father and half-brothers."

Marcus huffed. "This is not doubt false. It's probably some silver-tongued Imperial playing everyone the fool. The Dragonfires could be lighted with a simple fire spell, and birthmarks are not uncommon. Look!" Marcus lifted the sleeve of his shirt up around his shoulders, exposing a birthmark on his upper arm. "Mine looks like a dragon too!"

Both Dar-Ma and Seed-Neeus peered closer at the boy's arm. Indeed it did look like the dragon that symbolized the empire and the deity.

"Well, you could be right," Dar-Ma mumbled. "Especially considering the other rumors about this new Septim heir."

"What rumors?" asked Marcus as soon as he saw Seed-Neeus try to quiet her daughter. "Are they bad rumors?"

Dar-Ma continued in a hushed tone, although they were the only ones in the story. Despite her mother's protests, she began to tell Marcus. "You see, beggars have been disappearing from the Waterfront. No one's really cared before, but they've been disappearing in such a large number that it's suspicious. Necromancers are out of the picture ever since the Hannibal Travern's replacement defeated Manimarco years ago. The only clue is that the disappearances started around the time that the new heir came into power. The guards cannot pin the deed on him, and there have been no bodies to find. The people a joyous over the new heir, so the Council wants this information quelled, but people still talk."

"Even more reason to believe he's a charlatan," grumbled Marcus.

He shifted in his seat before standing up to retrieve his sword and shield. A quick gaze to the window showed that the sun had already set, and it was time to acquire a room at the Grey Mare for the night.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Seed-Neeus, Dar-Ma," said Marcus. "I have to leave in the morning, and I don't want to trouble you further."

"'Twas no trouble at all," replied Seed-Neeus. "However, I insist that you stay the night with us. It is your first time in Chorrol alone and I don't want you to deal with the drunks that frequent the inns after sunset."

Before Marcus could protest, the door to the shop swung open suddenly and a blond-haired High Elf bolted up the staircase. Honditar was breathing heavily when he came to a halt before the three. He placed his hand on his knees as he caught his breath, unable to relay the message that he seemed to try to spit out of his mouth.

"Honditar!" exclaimed Dar-Ma, quite shocked by the elf's sudden presence. "What is the matter?"

After heaving for a few more moments, Honditar managed to compose himself enough to address the Argonian.

"I heard that Marcus was in town," he mangaged to choke out. "Is his mother around?"

"I'm right here," said Marcus," but my mother is still at home in the Great Forest."

Honditar stepped up to the boy and gripped his shoulders. Locked in a serious gaze with the elf, Marcus couldn't bring himself to say anything. The two female Argonians were just as surprised by the action and were unable to speak as well.

"You have to leave town quickly, lad."

"What?"

"You heard me," the elf said very gravely. "There are some strange people in red cloaks looking for you. They came right after I spotted a fire in the Great Forest. It was around where your farm resides. I know it's dangerous to travel through the forest at night, but I'll get you to your mother. Hopefully she'll find a way to Bruma or the Imperial City. Perhaps even going to Kvatch would be better."

Assessing the situation quickly, Dar-Ma shook off the surprise that was holding her in place and gathered the rest of Marcus's belongings for him, including the daedric lonsword and the sack of gold coins. Seeing her daughter spring into action, Seed-Neeus hurried down the stares and looked through the window by the door, spying several suspicious characters loitering around the lower gate. However, they were not clad in red cloaks as the elf described. Still they wore strange curved swords on the belts, and that was enough to signal Seed-Neeus that something was amiss.

"Go through the back entrance," she commanded. "There are some suspicious people around the gate that leads to the stables."

Still shocked by the news of a fire by his home, Marcus had to be dragged by the arm by Dar-Ma to exit the store. Images of his home ablaze saturated his mind, and he couldn't help but think that his mother was somehow harmed. Honditar, Dar-Ma, and Marcus exited the store and walked briskly behind the houses of Chorrol. They silently led the shocked Marcus to the gate, but angry shouts came from behind.

"There he is!"

Honditar turned around to see the cloaked figures that he had been weary about. He inwardly cursed and drew his bow. He would not allow harm to come to the young lad for any reason, even if he did not know the whole story.

"Get him out of here!" the elf shouted to Dar-Ma. "I'll hold them off. Get going!"

As Marcus was dragged through the gate, he watched as Honditar fired several arrows at the attacking cloacked figures. A guard was running the road to join the fray, but the cloaked figures were already upon the elf with daggers drawn. Dar-Ma pulled Marcus around the city walls before he could see what befell the brave Altmer.

Despite being nothing but dead weight, Marcus managed to follow Dar-Ma to the stables without incident. After leading him through the wooden gate, the Argonian took the lad by the shoulders and shook him, snapping him out of his daze.

"I'll not have to die a needless death because you can't hold yourself together," she whispered harshly. "Do not think of Honditar. Only concern yourself with fleeing."

"Y-yes." Marcus murmured.

"Take Blossom," instructed Dar-Ma, leading him to her horse. "She may be old and slow, but she'll get you to wherever faster than your feet can."

Marcus nodded and began strapping his belonging to the paint horse's saddle. As he did so, he noticed that the daedric longsword was still in his possession. Before he could protest, Marcus shook the thought out his head. He would return later to give the sword to Seed-Neeus. Sitting himself on Blossom, Marcus soothed the horse to reassure her of the unfamiliar rider.

Just as the horse settled down, an arrow whizzed by Marcus's ear. He turned around to see more of the cloaked figures approaching, weapons drawn. Marcus was about to draw his sword and engage in battle, but Dar-Ma quickly slapped Blossom's flanks, sending her into a speeding fury. Unable to dismount the galloping horse, Marcus could only look back to see the Argonian raise her fists to meet the oncoming attackers.

Marcus lost track of time and sense of direction as he fought back the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. It was because of him that Honditar and Dar-Ma could be injured, or worse, dead. It was only when the scent of burning wood overcame him did Marcus realize where he was leading Blossom on her wild run. Subconsciously he had led them to his farm. However, the familiar sight of the small farmhouse did not greet him, but only smoldering wood and ash covered ground.

"Mother!" Marcus shouted. "Mother!"

He was about to leap off the horse and search for any signs of his mother, but three cloaked figures appeared from behind the smoking remains of the farmhouse, reacting to the sound of the boy's shouts. One pointed at the boy signaling to the others, and they drew their weapons simultaneously. Not wanting Blossom to be injured in a fight, Marcus kicked his heels against Blossom's flanks to send her running through the Great Forest again.

As she galloped, Marcus was sure that his cloaked assailants had lost track of him. All the emotions that he held inside of him final burst through in the form of vomit. Marcus leaned over the side of the horse and emptied the contents of his stomach, letting the tears out as well. A sudden rush of lightheadedness came upon him, and his last memory was of him falling off while still seated on the saddle.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Sorry about the overdue update. If I had more time, there would be regular updates, but I'm sorry to say my schedule is hectic. I appreciate those that continue to read this, despite the long wait between chapters. I appreciate all the reviews, and I'd like to know if there are any errors. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner now that I have the story outline down. Thank you again.


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